<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Cookin' Cookies by DreamBirdie (DreamBird711)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28633713">Cookin' Cookies</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamBird711/pseuds/DreamBirdie'>DreamBirdie (DreamBird711)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Scout Troop, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Camp Camp: Season 2 Episode 11, Children Are Strange, Drug Empire, Drugs, Guns, I just love this episode, JSchlatt as a Troop Leader, Minor Violence, Parent Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Recreational Drug Use, References to Drugs, Selling Drugs, The cartel as scouts, he's my favorite :), no beta we die like men, ted is in like all my fics now, these kids, this is one of my favorite crack ideas ever</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:02:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,392</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28633713</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamBird711/pseuds/DreamBirdie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to a world where Schlatt runs a summer camp scout troop and the cartel sell drugs- cookies.<br/>Yeah.<br/>Cookies.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexis | Quackity &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>94</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this because I am a crack au king and felt like it</p><p>also, If you think im missing any tags please tell me! I'm not very good at them.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Schlatt stands on his podium, or as the kids under his care call it, the glorified stepping stool. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning Scouts!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, Mr. Schlatt!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah, the sweet validation of the children yelling his name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glorious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, who can tell me what starts today?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cookie Sales!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can see the hunger in their eyes to dominate and succeed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s raised these kids so well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! And which troop is going to sell the most?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Troop Number 420!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt is so happy they got that number.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright!” The kids cheer again, “And why are we going to do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you'd rather die than let that bitch Wilbur Soot make you look bad in front of the other Scout Leaders!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He truly, truly loves these kids memorization skills. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly! and, as your Scout Leader, I'm excited to tell you that this year the Flowerscouts organization has included a grand prize for the troop that sells the most product in the country: An all-expense paid trip to Cabo!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the kids gasp and he can see his top trio bouncing in excitement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh My God!” Quackity’s grin becomes wider at the implications of a trip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard Cabo has the best beaches.” Tubbo’s bouncing makes him feel a spike of joy, he’s glad his son has friends. He started this troop for him anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Schlatt, are you serious?” Despite all the murmuring, Tommy’s loud voice cuts through everything and everyone goes quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels himself sigh at the far too tall 15 year old, “Interrupting is rude, Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy rolls his eyes, but lets out a mumbled “Sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now you all are gonna sell skinny minties, lemon lilies and coconut cream candy tuffs until every last loser in Sleepy Peak has diabetes!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cheers of the children feel a little misplaced, but it’s still hilarious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need that vacation.” he mumbles it under his breath, but by the muffled snickers of his top trio, they all heard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good luck with that.” Ah, Wilbur Soot and his dumbass kids. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ew. It's troop 652.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity rolls his eyes, “What do you losers want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur grins his stupid grin, “We merely wanted to offer you the last box of our Popcorn.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scout system has a variety of products you can sell, cookies, popcorn, and the all too confusing nuts and candy labeled as “fall product.” Because there are two troops in Sleepy Peak, each troop had to pick a different type of product. Luckily, Schlatt had been there longer, which meant he got first dibs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He obviously chose the superior product. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy narrows his eyes, “Nobody likes your shitty caramel corn, Wilbur. Get lost!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s grin turns vaguely venomous, “Oh, but I beg to differ.” He’s still salty his little brother didn’t join his troop, “In fact, we just sold 99% of our popcorn supply to the good people of Sleepy Peak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt narrows his eyes, “You did what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur rolls his eyes, “Your annoying troop beat us to the punch every year with your stupid cookies. So, we decided to rearrange our sales schedule.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one's gonna want cookies when they're already filled up on popcorn.” Curse Wilbur’s sweet little right hand counselor Niki. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group walks away laughing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh! I can't even with them!” Quackity groans clenching his fist at their backs as they leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo pouts, “What are we gonna do?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boys,” Schlatt hops off his podium and makes his way over to the trio, “you're gonna get out there, and sell some cookies.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt lets a menacing grin fall over his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By any means necessary.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Cookies!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cookie sales!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We've got your cookies…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, for FUCK'S sake!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they watch another person carefully avoid their little cookie covered plastic table, Tommy slams his fist down in rage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy, calm down, you remember what your therapist says.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy turns and glares at Tubbo, “This is bullshit, Tubbo!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity groans, “Since when do we have to work to sell cookies? As long as I'm cute, people should give me what I want!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo frowns, “Maybe everyone did fill up on popcorn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all look up when the door chime for the store they’re sat outside of rings, ready for another possible customer to find it’s just Schlatt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep it down, guys. I’ve got a wine headache.” He carefully leans on the storefront wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s frown is still present, “Dad, this isn't working.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity dramatically raises a hand to his forehead, “What should we dooo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guys, I hate to say it, but you can't survive in this world with good looks or nice voices alone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the boys gasp dramatically, and he knows they're joking, they’re almost always yelling about “THE BIT!” Whatever that means, but he plays along anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raises his hands in surrender, “I'm just saying that sometimes you have to do some extra work to make things better. Things like my breakfast.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo turns back to the other two, “Maybe he's right. Maybe if we just work a little harder we can better ourselves and achieve our goals.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo, I know Schlatt is the ideal role model, but you sound really stupid right now.” Tommy rolls his eyes with a grin, obviously not meaning it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo fake frowns, “You're right, I'm sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity critically looks down at the cookies, “We're not the problem. Obviously, it's these hella-lame cookies. They haven't changed since, like, the '90s.” He experimentally shakes the box like that will do something, “We just have to somehow make them better.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all turn when they hear Schlatt whisper, “Oh that's better.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity looks at the small bottle he’s holding, “What's that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Desoxyn.” He nonchalantly puts it back in his bag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo narrows his eyes, “What's Desoxyn?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um…” Schlatt looks down at the bottle and panics, “It's Spanish for… Sugar!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy holds his hands in a scheming position, “Like Mexican cane sugar? Mexican cane sugar is super popular right now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity snickers, he knows what desoxyn is and finds it hilarious the others don’t, “That's right! No one wants that nasty corn syrup stuff when they can have organic sugar from another country.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo grins, “Dad, can we have your sugar?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt stops dead in his tracks, “Oh, oh no! Boys! I get my sugar special from my sugar daddy. It's very expensive.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt takes a sip of his drink and perks up, “Sell cookies for Cabo, Boys! I’m going to Muffin Tops and riding out breakfast!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy narrows his eyes at Schlatt’s retreating back, “We need that sugar.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uggh! I can't believe we have to work!” Quackity taps his fingers together. “We just have to find a way to get Schlatt away from his bag.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo frowns, “But how?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Shit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In less than a day, they’ve used up all of the dru- sugar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now what are we supposed to do?” Tubbo has a worried frown, they still don’t have the money for Cabo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy glares at the empty bottle, “We can't sell a troop's worth of cookies without more cane sugar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity groans loudly, “This is so annoying! I guess now we have to track down Schlatt's sugar daddy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s frown deepens, “But how?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity furrows his eyebrows for a moment before clapping quickly, “Tubbo, get your dad’s phone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo nods, “okay but why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity grins, “you’ll see.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quackity flicks on his flash light at the taller guy from the back of the alley. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm just holding for a friend!” He shys his face from the light, tossing a hand over his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo rolls his eyes, “Calm down, Sugar Daddy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guy squints through the light, “Schlatt, is that you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy rolls his eyes as Quackity lowers the light, “Schlatt couldn't make it. You're dealing with us now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guy’s eyebrows go almost explicitly high into his hairline, “Woah, little kids, I ain't interested in buying nothing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity looks up with a groan, “Well, we are!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo holds the bottle up in the air with a grin, “Mexican cane sugar!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy snatches it away and tosses it to the guy, “The good shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ted looks down at the bootle and sees what it is, “Oh, right. ‘Cane sugar’” He picks up the bottle, “Look, I don't sell to any kids.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all grin, and Tubbo opens the briefcase of shining gold, and Tommy’s grin gets extra smug, “You do now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s grin turns to an overly sweet fake innocence, “So, do you know how to bake?” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Over a stunning four hours, they had a large troop preparing cookies, and the rest selling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity groans, throwing down the money he was counting, “I’m not even done and I can tell that this isn’t good enough!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo finishes counting the money, “Well, you’re right.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ted leans against the doorway, “maybe you should take out local competition.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy glares, “There’s other troops?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, not quite-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t matter,” Tommy glares at absolutely nothing and Ted honestly wonders if these kids are okay, then remembers these are children are under Schlatt’s care and knows the answer. “I will take them out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tosses on a jacket and walks out in a random direction and Ted quickly follows to make sure he doesn’t end up in a ditch. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this is so fucking funny to me, i will not lie to y'all <br/>also, please comment as i thrive off of them and any other form of instant validation <br/>hope you enjoy this shit show!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Stay!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Smack.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Off!” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Crack. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our!” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Crunch. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Turf!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Splatt. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Ted can honestly say he wasn’t ready to see the tall twig of a teen beat up full grown men as he avoids the blood hitting the wall of the alley. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy Shit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The teen wipes his hands on his blue jeans, and turns to grin at Ted.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And done! I don’t think anyone else will mess with us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ted nods, “Yeah,” he wipes a few flecks of blood off of his cheek, “Where’d you learn to,” He gestures vaguely to the beaten up people. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy laughs before flexing a muscle that isn’t there, “My big brother Techno thinks self defense is very important!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ted just nods, he doesn’t know what to do beyond never get on the boy, or his family’s, bad side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway! We should get back to the gang before they come looking for us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy’s grin darkens for a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want them to see this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pauses and tilts his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y’know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ted nods and they hurry on their way. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Little do they know, in Cabo, the place they want to go, their plans are being discussed by much more powerful people. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tall man looks bewildered at the two men in front of him, “What do you mean, ‘we're losing business’? We're the goddamn Mexican drug cartel!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slams a hand on his desk and glares at the men in front of him, “Who are we losing business to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One man awkwardly adjusts his shirt, airing out his collar for a moment, </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Well, Sir, our people are calling them, ‘Los Diablitos’.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His glare hardens. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want a meeting with them! Now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two men quickly leave the room to send the message. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ted rushes in the office, “Uh, kid, we got a problem!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity’s groan is essentially eternal at this point, “What is it now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ted’s face scrunches up into a frown, “Well, it seems this whole,” He gestures to the supply line of bakers visible through the office’s wide windows, “cookie operation has upset some powerful people,” Ted vaguely gestures down, “south of the border.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo tilts his head, ever one for the innocent bit, “Like in Mexico?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ted grimaces and nods, “The Cartels ain't too happy about our, uh, ‘sugar sales’ and they want to meet face to face. What should I tell them?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity’s groan just gets louder. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The doorbell rings through the house and two guards cautiously open the door, barely anyone uses the old doorbell anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity adjusts his beanie in a way that has a similar vibe to a hair flip, somehow, “Um, buenos dias. We're here to see your leader or whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One guy's jaw almost drops, “Uh, L-Los Diablitos?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy glares, getting in the guy’s face, “Hey! What the fuck, did you just say to me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other guy just nods, “Los Diablitos.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They quickly guide the three through the mansion, practically pushing them to a wide set of heavily decorated doors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After practically shoving them through the door, they’re met with the back of a chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you three are the ones who have been causing us such trouble. It was foolish of you to come-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man turns with his smug grin quickly falling being met with three children that can’t be past eighth grade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To be fair they weren’t but that’s none of his business.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still in shock, he murmurs out a quiet, “what the hell?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold up!” The lanky teen stalks up to the man’s desk, “Are you saying that I'm stupid!?” He glares, but not a normal glare, the one his brother taught him. With a touch of insanity and a touch of ‘I will end your bloodline.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guy shifts in discomfort and Quackity rolls his eyes, “Tommy, down!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy backs away from the desk back to his friends, never letting up his glare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity sighs, “Listen up, amigos. We don't know what your beef is with our sales. If anything, you should be thanking us for supporting the economy of this weak-ass country.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man’s face shrivels in confusion, “What is he talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he’s confused, Quackity points to the two guards flanking the desk, “HIT EM'!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy and Tubbo grin, pulling out throwing knives and hitting the two men in the head and chest respectively. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The leader quickly calls for guards, but by the time they make it in, Quackity’s standing with a shotgun pointed at seated man’s head and Tommy and Tubbo stand with rifles in front to protect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, I'm going to ask all of you losers this once and only once!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity grins, a touch of insanity in his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really want to fuck with these bitches?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a tense moment of silence before Quackity half lowers the gun with a sweet smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or would you like to buy some cookies?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The leader nods quickly and the guards go along with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity sighs in relief, “Oh thank fuck.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo nods along, helping Tommy disarm the guards while taking their cash, “This has been the worst cookie year ever.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>after, they get their vacation, have a good time, and do great stuff, running their dru- cookie empire and stuff</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>